


Dragon

by copperheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Drarry, Fluff, Gryffindor, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy - Freeform, M/M, Narcissa Malfoy - Freeform, Slytherin, dursley - Freeform, friends - Freeform, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 08:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16573268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperheart/pseuds/copperheart
Summary: Harry Potter can't find Platform 9 3/4. This time, instead of it being the Weasleys who meet the young, scared wizard at King's Cross, it is the Malfoys.Cut ahead a few years and their friendship is being tried by secrets and, of course, poor communication. Thankfully, some of their friends have kept their heads and help things to run smoothly again.Angst and some fluff.(The first three paragraphs are lifted from the books themselves)A rewrite of my previous work 'The Dragon' that includes writing improvements and plot alterations.CW // Mention of Child Ab*se





	Dragon

‘Have a good term,’ said Uncle Vernon with a nasty smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away – all three of them were laughing. Harry’s mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks because of Hedwig. He’d have to stop someone. 

He stopped a passing guard but didn’t dare mention platform nine and three quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn’t even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o’clock, but the guard said there wasn’t one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time-wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket box between platforms nine and ten.  
It was then that a tall, aristocratic looking man walked past muttering to his equally tall and aristocratic companion about ‘muggles’, while a young boy walked a step behind them. Harry paused, nervous about approaching the regal and fairly hostile family, but the still ticking clock nudged Harry into striding purposefully towards them and trying not to trip over the too-long legs of his trousers.

“Excuse me, madam! Sir!” 

The boy turned around first, nudging his father to get his attention. He raised an eyebrow gracefully at the scruffy child stood in front of him, stammering. 

“C-can you help me? I’m l-looking for Platform 9 ¾ and I c-can’t find it.” 

Harry regretting approaching them. He should have just given up, accepted that he was never going to make it to Hogwarts. After all, it was probably all just a nasty practical joke.  
“Of course we can, sweetheart,” it was the woman who spoke, her voice smooth and soft in a way that Harry imagined would commandeer the attention of any room without being loud and aggressive. He had never heard ‘sweetheart’ said in such a formal manner. “It’s Draco here’s first year too. He’s very nervous-“

“Mother!” 

“The platform’s just through this brick wall. Draco, you go first with your father.”  
As instructed, Draco took a sharp intake of breath and quickened his pace to match his father’s until they were all but running at the solid wall in front of them. Harry flinched as they reached the wall, but instead of colliding with it painfully, they disappeared without a trace. Harry felt his jaw drop, and blushed at the short, controlled laugh that came from beside him. 

“Okay, dear, it’s your turn. I’m right next to you.” 

Harry nodded, an expression of determination fixating over his face. Gripping the handles of the trolley so hard that his knuckles turned white, he took off and walked into the wall in front of him. A cold sensation washed over him momentarily before he stepped out onto a platform not unlike the one on the other side of the wall, only this time there appeared to be a menagerie of cats and owls and toads of all shapes and sizes squawking and meowing over the shouts of excited school children, many of whom were dressed in cloaks similar to the ones Harry had bought in Diagon Alley, and similar to the ones Draco and his family were all adorned in.

Draco flashed him an amused smile at the look of wonder on the young boy’s face.  
A whistle blew, signalling five minutes until the train was due to leave and Draco turned to face his parents. What followed was an uncomfortable goodbye that was, though warmer than Harry’s goodbye with the Dursleys, oddly formal. Harry thanked the two adults and turned to board the train with his first friend. 

They walked together quietly, finding an empty compartment relatively easily.

“Which house do you think you’ll be in?” Draco asked, breaking the silence as they sat down.  
Harry blinked, confused, responding with a prolonged ‘uh’ sound. “You don’t know? What, did you grow up with muggles or something?” Harry noticed as Draco’s eyes flashed upwards towards his scar as he said this. Harry nodded. 

“My aunt and uncle.” 

“You lived with muggles? But you’re-“ Harry turned from the window to look at Draco quizzically, wondering both how he would have finished the sentence and why he stopped. Suddenly, the compartment door was pushed open and a ginger boy wearing a knitted jumper with an ‘R’ stitched on it and some slightly-too-big jeans stepped inside. 

“Everywhere else is full, mind if I sit?” The boy asked, taking the seat next to Draco without waiting for a response. 

“Let me guess… red hair, hand-me-down clothes – you must be a Weasley!” Draco announced, the haughty superiority in his voice startling Harry who faced him confusedly.

“A what?” Harry asked at the same time as the ‘Weasley’ let out an indignant ‘Hey!’ 

‘Good Godric, you really were brought up by muggles. A Weasley, a notoriously muggle-friendly pureblood family with eight children, all ginger, no two galleons to rub together.” 

“Oh sure, because your family is so great.” Ron snarled, but Draco merely shrugged.

“Wasn’t intending on starting any fights,” he replied coolly, unruffled. Ron turned to Harry instead of responding. 

“I’m Ron, and you are…?” 

“I’m Harry, and that’s Draco.” Ron nodded, his eyes slowly travelling until they reached the distinctive lightening bold scar on Harry’s forehead. 

“Bloody hell… you’re Harry Potter…” Ron’s voice was filled with awe, and he turned to Draco suddenly. “Did you know?” 

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow and nodded.

“Of course, I did.” 

“Why does everyone know who I am?” Harry asked, frustrated into asking. 

“You’re Harry Potter – you’re famous!” Ron exclaimed, his eyes slightly too round for Harry to be comfortable.

“You pretty much saved most of the wizarding world from this dark wizard when you were a baby. My parents won’t tell me much about the war, but apparently he was really powerful.” Draco explained calmly and slightly more helpfully than Ron. 

“Who, me?” He asked, bewildered. “Are you sure?”  
Draco laughed somewhat affectionately, his cold exterior breaking down, and nodded. Harry grinned properly for the first time in what felt like eleven years.

“Apparently I have a lot to learn about the wizarding world.” 

Draco and Ron explained everything they could think of regarding the wizarding world in the train journey that followed. By the time they had reached the station, Harry could have written essays on chocolate frogs, and a game called Quidditch, and the taste of a mysterious drink they called Butterbeer. 

They reached the castle only too soon, and in no time at all Draco’s name was being called out by McGonagall for the sorting ceremony. 

“Good luck,” Harry whispered as he went up, and Draco grinned back, not letting his nerves show. He sat on the stool as indicated and the hat was placed on his head. It had barely touched his hair when it called out Slytherin, and Draco smiled and walked happily over to the applauding table. Ron snorted unkindly, but Harry was delighted for his first friend. 

Soon, it was Harry’s turn. His cheeks turned red at the audible gasp from what seemed like every single one of the people at all four of the tables, and eyes began to scour the gaggle of first years left at the front. He willed himself to move, scarcely breathing as he approached the stool. He sat, and the hat was placed on his head.

'Hmm… Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… where shall I put you? Slytherin, perhaps… you could be great… No – it has to be – GRYFFINDOR!'

Harry opened his tightly closed eyes and searched the crowd for the blond boy that he already felt oddly attached to. Draco shot him a smile, a smile that said ‘it’s okay, our houses don’t have to come between us’, and Harry immediately relaxed his shoulders that he hadn’t noticed were tense. He hopped off the stool and walked towards the cheering table dressed in burgundy and gold and took a seat next to a girl with bushy hair and long teeth who, he would later find out, would eventually become one of his closest friends.

 

“Good morning, my darling lizard!” 

Draco’s stomach flipped uncomfortably and subconsciously at the cheery voice coming from above where Draco was sat underneath a tree by the lake. His eyes narrowed, and he closed his book, radiating irritation. 

“For the last time, Potter, my name means dragon.” 

Harry grinned, flopping down next to him in what was somehow simultaneously the most graceful and the most clumsy thing Draco had ever seen.

“But dragons are supposed to be scary!” 

Draco glared at Harry who, to his dismay, just laughed, totally unaffected by what he had hoped was his most intimidating stare.

“I can be scary,” he insisted. 

Harry merely shrugged, his smile turning into a cocky smirk that caused annoyance to bubble inside Draco until he had to turn away.

“Remind me why I’m still friends with you.” He sighed, exasperated, and Harry let out a gasp which, Draco knew, was total fake. Mostly because it was overdramatic, and Harry was very, very bad at acting. 

“I gave you a list to memorise the last time you said that!” Harry’s face contorted suddenly as though he was thinking carefully. “Or maybe it was the time before…” 

Draco supressed a laugh. 

“I don’t think ‘He’s got cool hair’ is enough of a reason. Besides, my hair is much better than your unruly bird’s nest.” Draco sniffed. “Don’t you have some work to do instead of bothering me?” 

“Don’t pretend you want me to leave, we both know I light up your life and bring joy to your most boring day.” 

Draco smiled wryly, wishing against all odds that it wasn’t true. He felt the familiar warmth and affection rise at Harry’s faux-cocky expression and, as he usually did, tried immediately to squash it – it aroused too many internal questions that Draco wasn’t quite ready to face yet. Instead, he forced any remnants of a smile to disappear and opened his book. 

“Go away, Potter. I didn’t ask you to come and talk to me and you’re just annoying me. You’re getting in the way.” 

Harry paused. 

“Do you really want me to go?” 

Draco looked up and examined Harry’s face that was tilting downwards. Scared by the sympathy and guilt and something-else-he-didn’t-quite-understand that threatened to surface, Draco hardened his features and turned back to the book. 

“Yes. Go.” 

“Sure. I get it,” Harry muttered, the irritating cheer all but gone from his voice. “See you later, Draco.” 

Whatever Draco had been expecting as a reaction, this hadn’t been it. Where was the mocking, and the smile, and the annoying nickname? The bounce in his step and the teasing glint that was so often present in his eye? Draco hadn’t been that cruel, had he?  
He watched his friend leave, confused, before shaking his head and trying to read again. Ten minutes later and he slammed the book shut in frustration having read and reread the same sentence fourteen times without it going in once. He stood up and marched towards the castle, scanning the surroundings for a familiar head of ginger hair.

Bingo! (Hermione had taught him this word and even in this mood the sound of it made him laugh. Muggles really were odd.) 

“Weasel!” 

Despite officially being of the ‘friend’ status since late first year after eight months of fighting over Harry behind his back, Draco and Ron still acted hostile towards each other. Even if they were usually at each other’s throats, Draco felt fond of the awkwardly tall ginger boy, and knew Ron would be there for him if he was ever truly in trouble. Unfortunately, neither one would ever admit this aloud and their constant arguing drove Hermione, Harry, Blaise, and Pansy crazy.

True to form, Ron scowled at the approaching figure. 

“What is it, Malfoy?”

“Why is Harry being weird?” He demanded.

“What do you mean weird? He seemed alright last time I saw him.” 

“Great, so it’s me.” Draco sighed, throwing himself on the bench in between Ron and Hermione, who glared at him as he nearly spilled the pot of ink she had open next to her. Her left eye flickering with annoyance, she twisted the lid onto the pot and turned to face her friend. 

“Harry’s been having a rough time lately. He needs a friendly face.” 

“We’re friends, though!” Draco scowled, irritated at the lack of an answer Hermione had given him. “And what do you mean a rough time?” 

Hermione sighed, her voice becoming softer.

“Look, school’s nearly over and he’s worried about going back to the Dursleys. I know you two have that whole banter thing going on, but I think what he needs right now is someone he knows he can rely on.” 

Draco didn’t reply for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts.

“I’m not saying this to be mean, but… he has you, right? As the person he can rely on. And Weasley, and Pansy as well – they’re very close. Why me as well? This has never been an issue before.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her expression showing that she knew something Draco didn’t. 

“Are you sure it’s never been an issue?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” 

“If you’re going to yell at me, you can find out for yourself.” Hermione said sharply, and Draco glared at her before lowering his voice to something more pleading. 

“Please, ‘Mione.”

Exasperated, Hermione shook her head.

“Just go and talk to him.” 

Draco grumbled, but Hermione had already turned back to the essay she was writing and was showing no signs of paying him any more attention, so he stood up and marched out to head for the Owlery.

 

“Hey, Potter! Potter” Draco panted, his voice hoarse from having climbed the endless flights of stairs up to the owlery. “I knew I’d find you here.” 

Harry tilted his head into a slight nod, indicating that he was aware of his friend’s presence. Draco coughed awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. He would never admit it but Harry was his closest friend, and if he couldn’t have a serious conversation with him, he worried for his social skills. 

“Sorry I didn’t notice you were worried about the Dursleys,” he muttered softly, sitting on the beam next to Harry without turning to face him. Harry laughed bitterly, surprising Draco with his reaction for the second time that day. 

“You know I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you speak to me without an edge to your voice.” 

Draco’s head shot up, his expression confused.

“Huh?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. 

“Look, Draco, this whole ‘I-hate-you’ think we have going on… I thought I was okay with it, but it’s exhausting. I never know where I stand, or if you’re serious. I keep trying to break down the wall you’ve put up between us, but I can’t keep trying anymore. There’s too much going on right now for me to stay on my toes all the time.” 

“What are you trying to say?” Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“For fuck’s sake, Draco! It’s been six years and I know nothing about you! I give up. I can’t keep trying!” 

Draco opened his mouth and closed it wordlessly. Harry laughed, the tiniest hint of his old humour creeping into the otherwise hollow sound. 

“That’s the best goldfish impression I’ve ever seen.” 

“Don’t change the subject.” Draco replied sharply. Squashing down the emotion that could only be described as heartbreak that overcame him as Harry spoke, and that would only intensify at the words he uttered next, he continued talking. “If you really feel that way then I won’t make this any harder for you.” 

He left the room, pausing by the door as though he was waiting for an excuse to turn around. Hearing nothing, he walked back down the way he had come up what felt like mere moments previously. 

 

The next few weeks were, to put it lightly, hell for the rest of the group. Harry withdrew himself from any social activity, spending all his time studying quietly by himself or wandering aimlessly around the hills surrounding the castle. Even Ron and Hermione saw little of him, and any attempt at conversation quickly died into nothing. 

Draco was the complete opposite. If someone ever mentioned Harry, or even the word ‘hairy’ as Blaise had unfortunately discovered after ending up with a burnt hole in the arm of one of his robes after the blond had thrown a spell in his direction. Even when Harry wasn’t mentioned he was irritable and loud. 

It didn’t take long for everyone’s sympathy to run out, and one evening as Draco was pacing the Slytherin Common Room, Pansy snapped. 

“Draco Malfoy if you don’t go and talk to Harry I swear to God I will kill both of you.”  
Draco stopped, startled. No-one had explicitly called him out like this yet. 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” 

Pansy stood up to march out, secretly excited about this dramatic exit. 

“He said he doesn’t want me to speak to him, none of this is my fault!”  
Pansy rolled her eyes, partly due to Draco’s words and partly (mostly) because now she couldn’t make her dramatic exit. 

“Since when have you ever let anyone else tell you what to do? You’re the most stubborn person I know – except maybe Harry – and if you’re not talking to him then it’s on you as well.” 

“Well maybe I just want to respect my frie- ex-friend’s wishes?” 

Pansy laughed. 

“Yeah, no, that’s not it.” 

Draco sighed dramatically. 

“I hate not talking to him, Pan.”

Pansy smiled, warmth creeping into her previously irritated expression and she sat back down  
next to him.

“You need to be telling him that, not me.”

“What if he was serious, though? That he doesn’t want to be friends?” 

“We’ll come to that if we get there.” Pansy replied kindly. “Look, that’s not going to happen. You two have always had some sort of weird connection that none of us have ever been able to understand – why do you think Ron gets so jealous? – and you’ve always been the exception to how extraordinarily obtuse he is.” 

“Really?” Butterflies started to flap about in Draco’s stomach and Pansy smirked. 

“You have butterflies.” 

“How did you-? I mean… I don’t!” 

There was a pause as Pansy searched for what to say next.

“Uh… Draco, don’t get mad but… do you think it might be possible that you like boys? And maybe one boy in particular?” 

Draco blinked once. 

Then he blinked again. 

Everything that he had been supressing and trying not to think about was suddenly right there and right in the open. Subconsciously he had always known but had not been ready to confront the reality of what this would mean. 

“I- You- What- No!” Draco turned swiftly and punched the wall above the fireplace, groaning in pain as his fist collided with the brick. 

Pansy nodded, finally leaving and making the exit she had wanted to before. “Just something to think about, Draco.” 

 

If things had been bad between Harry and Draco before, now they were even worse. While before they ignored each other completely, Draco now refused to enter a room if he thought Harry would be in there, and had no qualms about getting up and leaving if the Gryffindor walked in. He became even more unbearable around his friends, snapping at the slightest bit of provocation. Meanwhile, the dark rings that Draco had failed to notice under Harry’s eyes were even darker now, and Draco himself was growing a matching set. Harry isolated himself even further and moved with a certain listlessness, as if he was drifting through each day without being aware of what he was doing. 

Finally, after a week of this they accidentally bumped into each other back in the owlery – as accidentally as something carefully orchestrated by an irritated and concerned group of friends could be. Harry spent every evening there with Hedwig, and what seemed like a very stressed Blaise had asked Draco if he’d send a ‘very important’ letter for him as he had too much work to do that evening and ‘he knew Draco had nothing except pacing with a stormy expression to do’, and so Draco had reluctantly agreed to go. 

The blond Slytherin stopped stock still as he pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, grumbling about Blaise making him traipse up there. Harry was stood at the window, a too-skinny silhouette against the purple sky of the Scottish summer evening. A light breeze was blowing through his hair and he was hunched over the sill. Draco noticed his clenched fists and a sudden and overwhelming desire to unfurl them gently with his own hands washed over him. It was a fierce protectiveness, a sudden realisation that he would do anything for the sad boy in front of him, and a force that wasn’t his consciousness pushed him forwards a few steps. He reached out and touched his shoulder, whispering an apology when Harry flinched. With his other hand, he lifted Harry’s and, as he had envisioned a mere minute and a half previously, lifted his fingers into a relaxed position one by one and rubbed the crescent moons in the palm of his hand with his thumb. 

Harry watched his hands, a slightly wary and confused expression evident on his face. Eventually, he looked up and met his… friend’s… eyes with his own. They remained silent for a few moments, staring at each other with confusion, apprehension, wonder and, undeniably, lust. 

“I love you. I always have, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice before.” 

Harry looked torn, and Draco felt his heart fall. 

“Draco, I- I love you, but… you’ve hurt me a lot. How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”  
Draco shook his head, clutching Harry’s hands even tighter. 

“Please, love. I know I don’t deserve another chance and I can’t excuse the way I’ve acted over these past few weeks, but you have to know that’s because I was confused and scared. I’ve grown past that now, I want to continue to grow with yo-”

Here, Draco was cut off by Harry kissing him suddenly. Taken by surprise, he froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer.  
Suddenly, Harry laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh – the laugh that comes right after you’ve cried. It was raw and beautiful, and it broke the spell. Draco looked at Harry, a wounded expression crossing his face.

“That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard, but it was perfect, Draco. I love you – more than anything – and I love that the first genuine, emotional thing you’ve said is that. I’m sorry as well, for pushing you away. I’ve regretted that moment since I saw you walk away.” 

Draco shook his head, waving away Harry’s apology. They sat together, their hands and legs intertwined, in comfortable silence, a silence unlike any of the silences that had been present between them recently. 

“It got physical towards the end of last year.” Harry murmured suddenly, humourlessly, startling the Slytherin into looking at him. “I mean, Dudley was often quite aggressive, but… Uncle Vernon found out that I’m bisexual and, well, reached for a poker. My aunt just watched it happen, and Dudley was delighted. The poker got quite hot…” He smiled wanly, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder and fidgeting with the skin around his nails. “They were trying to push it out of me – turn me into less of a freak. I didn’t eat anything except left-over birthday cake from all of you for two weeks, and even that eventually ran out. I don’t-I don’t want to go back.” 

Draco stared at him for a few moments, taken aback by the boy’s – his boy’s – sudden confession. An overwhelming anger greater than anything he’d felt before started to course through his veins. 

“Draco, let go,” he heard distantly. Being pulled back to reality, he became aware that he was squeezing Harry’s hand so tightly that it had turned white.

“Oh, Harry… I’m so sorry.”

Harry smiled wanly. 

“That’s why I’ve been… off. If my secret wasn’t enough, the dread is just… it’s crippling.”  
“You can’t go back.” Draco insisted, his voice firm. 

“I want to send a message to Sirius and Remus, but… I’m scared they’ll ask why and I don’t think I could take it if they hated me for it as well.”

Depsite himself, Draco laughed at this. Harry’s face turned into that of a wounded puppy, and Draco couldn’t help but plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Babe, I know you’re not the most observant, but… they’re gay, Harry. They’re together. And even if they weren’t, they’re good people who love you and they’d accept you anyway.” 

Harry gaped at Draco. 

“You mean…?” 

“You darling, obtuse thing,” Draco smiled fondly. “Of course they’d let you stay. Please, please send them a letter as soon as possible. You absolutely can’t go back to your Aunt,” his tone returned to its previous seriousness, just as Harry finally smiled. He knew what he had to do, and he wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys. If his godparents couldn't have him, he knew Mrs Weasley would let him stay at the Burrow. Feeling the tension release from his shoulders, he realised with great happiness that the boy he had been pining after since he'd met him, whether it was consciously or not, had his arms wrapped tightly around him. And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

“That’s enough of the pity. Let’s go find some friends, lizard.” 

“It means dragon! I’m not some idiot gecko! Surely you want to be dating a mighty dragon instead of a lizard?!” 

Harry grinned at him. 

“Sure, Liz.” 

Draco didn’t bother coming up with a retort, instead opting to push Harry back against the wall, holding his wrists away from his body. He kissed the Gryffindor with a greater intensity to any of their previous kisses, and by the time he finally let him go he had to physically support the dazed Harry to ensure he didn’t slide down to the floor again. He kissed the side of his neck and growled.

Harry laughed breathlessly, distracted.

“Maybe there is more dragon in you than I thought…”

**Author's Note:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038393
> 
> The original is here. I think this one is better, but let me know if you've read them both.  
> I've tried to write a sequel, and then I tried to write a prequel. They didn't work. Maybe later.


End file.
